In Vino Veritas
by Nightshade2412
Summary: Sequel to 'Reckless'. After Alex's stunt in Israel, R-Unit decide they need team bonding time, and Alex decides they need Disney. For SpyFest 2019, Week Four.


**A.N. For the week 4 prompt, "[Character], pick your poison". I should probably have been working on the exchange fic instead, but hey, what's Spyfest without a bit of crazy? I swear I'm nearly there with the other story! Sort of! Sprinting to catch up!**

**...eek.**

**This is actually a sequel to **_**One More Step **_**and **_**Reckless, **_**as it's a fun 'verse to write in and I've made it a bit of a self-indulgent, personal SpyFest tradition. Quick recap: Alex has joined the SAS under a false identity (John Rogers, codename Spider), and is in a unit with Bear (Steve Dallas), Buffalo and Croc. This picks up right after the Israel mission in **_**Reckless.**_

* * *

_Ce que le sobre tient au cœur est sur la langue du buveur._

The cabin was quiet, save for the brief rustle of pages and blankets, as R-Unit wound down in the aftermath of their mission in Israel. They had arrived back that morning and spent the day in debriefings and check ups, and none of them were left with the energy to play cards, instead retreating to their respective bunks to flop.

Steve had pulled out a book, hoping to lose himself in the pages of a whodunnit for a couple of hours, but when he had to read the same paragraph a third time he gave up. His thoughts were literally miles away, back watching the youngest member of his unit sprinting out of a burning building after a tense period of radio silence. He had been furious at not being told what was happening, but it was hard to stay angry when the debriefings coaxed more of the story out - Spider had single-handedly prevented a disaster. He deserved a medal, not a lecture.

"Where's the kid?" Buffalo asked. He was looking at Steve like he knew exactly what was occupying the leader's mind.

"Shower," Croc supplied, setting his book down as well, indicating that he too thought they needed to discuss… something.

"What's his deal?" Buffalo asked, straight to the point.

"What do you mean?" Steve returned.

"There's a lot he hasn't been telling us. We're supposed to be a unit, but he's constantly surprising us and not giving concrete explanations afterwards. How are we supposed to work with that?"

That, Steve supposed, was the root of the tension between Buffalo and Spider - the latter was more than a little shady, but trust and communication were vital since their work relied on a mixture of teamwork and improvisation.

"We need team bonding time," Croc declared.

"We spend a ton of time together already," Steve said.

"Yeah, but - well, it might not be what you'd think of as a workplace, but that's kind of what it is, right? Even here. And maybe Spider's a little uptight because he's the youngest and feels he has to prove himself to us. But we've got a whole week's leave now - hang out as friends, get him to relax over a few drinks…"

"John's allowed his privacy," Steve frowned. "We're not getting him drunk just to interrogate him. That's hardly gonna make him trust us."

"It's not an _interrogation_, jeez. And we'll all be drinking."

"I think it's a good idea," Buffalo said.

"What's a good idea?"

They jumped guiltily as Spider entered the cabin, towel slung over his shoulders. He made to cross over to his bunk but stopped when he saw the way they were all watching him.

"Is something wrong?" he said slowly. "Guys?"  
"Spider," Croc said. "Unit sleepover during our week off. Yay or nay?"

"We spend the whole time together on base and during missions anyway."

"It's fine if you don't want to," Steve said. "If you want some time for yourself, or to spend it with your family-"  
"No, it's fine," Spider said quickly. "Unit sleepover, great idea, I'm in."

"Wonderful," Croc said, though he exchanged a confused glance with the others at the sudden change in attitude. "Whose place are we using? Bear?"

Steve sighed. "Sure, whatever, I've got room."

* * *

They decided to hold it straight away, taking the train together and walking from the station to Steve's flat on the outskirts of Bristol. It was a couple of miles away, but that was nothing compared to Selection and the conditions they faced on missions. Alex walked alongside Bear as Croc and Buffalo bickered behind them, enjoying the sun on his face. The university had finished for the summer, and the tourists were concentrated nearer the city centre, so Alex could enjoy the feel of being in a city again without the stress of the crowds.

It was mid-afternoon when they arrived. They dumped their bags and argued for a while over who would get the couch. Bear put the TV on in the background, showing some football match, but Chelsea wasn't playing so Alex was only pretending to pay attention.

He stuck it out for an hour, before retrieving his phone from the bottom of his bag and telling the others he was heading out for some air.

Bear's street opened right out onto the river, and Alex crossed the bridge to the other side and followed the bank for a few minutes until it reached the trees. He followed the childish urge to climb one and there, nestled in the branches with only squirrels for company, he set to checking in with the people helping him maintain his false identity, which mostly meant Smithers (the only person at MI6 who he'd told when he decided to drop off the grid) and some of Smithers' contacts.

That only took a few minutes, and after that he was left, turning over the phone in his hands and the temptation in his mind: Tom. He hadn't talked to the boy since he joined the SAS, constantly afraid of leaving a trail that would connect John Rogers to Alex Rider. But the fear was weighed down by an equal amount of guilt and loneliness.

He tucked the phone into his pocket before he could do anything rush and dropped down from the tree to start heading back. His unit was a little overwhelming at times, but it was better than feeling lonely and sorry for himself.

* * *

"Hawaiian or pepperoni?"

"Pepperoni," Alex returned without missing a beat, despite the fact that Bear hadn't even let him past the threshold before throwing the question at him.

"Damn. I want new unit-mates who appreciate the deliciousness of pineapple on pizza," Steve complained, but he grinned at Alex as he ushered him through. "I'll put the order in soon, because no one's touching the alcohol until they've eaten, got that?"

"We're drinking?" Alex said stupidly.

"What did you want to do, watch Disney movies and paint each other's toenails?" Croc retorted, shifting to make room for him on the couch.

"Sounds like my idea of a perfect night," Alex agreed readily, because making a joke out of it seemed like a better alternative than stuttering nervously and revealing that he'd barely ever had alcohol before because he'd spent his teenage years going to foreign countries instead of house parties and using his fake ID to join the SAS instead of buying booze.

"I can't offer you nail polish," Steve said from where he was flipping through a bunch of papers looking for takeaway coupons, "but I could probably dig out _The Lion King _if you want."

"What are we, twelve?" Buffalo grumbled.

"You're never too old for Disney," Alex said.

"Maybe you're not, Rogers, but I have two little sisters and there is a _limit _to how many times I'm willing to listen to _Hakuna Matata._"

"Not possible, you love it really," Alex defended. "And I didn't know you had siblings?"

"Yeah, well, maybe you would if you hadn't kept running off at the first hint of unit bonding time."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Alex said uncomfortably, and Buffalo didn't push as he realised it had come out a little more bitter than he'd intended, turning back instead to the subject of what movie to watch, and Alex found himself pushing down hysteria when he realised he was outnumbered by the others wanting to watch _James Bond _instead.

"Maybe one day we'll end up working alongside MI6," Croc said with more relish than the thought deserved, "so c'mon, John, time to educate yourself on how they clearly _don't _work."

"Oh, yeah?" Alex said for lack of a better response.

"Yeah, I mean it's obviously completely unrealistic - just look at all the gadgets and eccentric supervillains."

"They don't have gadgets in the new ones, though," Buffalo interjected.

"Ok, that's fair, the gun and radio is a bit more believable. But the stunts - well, they're unbelievably cool, but _so _not what secret agents actually do."

Alex wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry; the result was a strangled grunt that made the others stare at him.

"What, you didn't actually think it was a good representation, did you?" Croc said.

"Of course not," Alex forced himself to say. "Though, the villains, I mean you'd be surprised what enough money and insanity can turn someone into."

"That's a fair point," Steve said. "You guys remember that singer, Damian Cray?"

Alex wished the floor would open up and swallow him right there and then. He crossed to Steve's small shelf of DVDs in order to escape the barrage of memories that came with the Cray mission, not least the thought of the Pleasures and the accompanying guilt that came with leaving them. He put on Skyfall and tried to detach himself from the painful reminders of the world he'd tried to forget.

The pizza came halfway through and by the end everyone was too stuffed to move, but Croc gave Bear a pointed stare until the latter heaved himself up, padding into the adjoining kitchen area behind the couch.

"C'mon John, pick your poison," he said a moment later. Alex twisted round to see him holding a six-pack of identical cans. "There's a choice of beer, beer or beer."

Alex would usually be wary of anything that might prevent him thinking clearly, but he was strung out from thinking about MI6 and making an effort to be part of the group and so he only hesitated a moment before snagging a drink.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Steve ruffled his hair briefly before moving onto the others, and he wasn't sure what to make of that.

* * *

The conversation stayed lighthearted for a while, talking about sports and TV and playing a round of poker just for the fun of it. Alex tried to pace himself with small sips, but the pleasant buzz he got after accepting a second drink made it easier to laugh and argue with the others, and the tension that was so often an undercurrent to their interactions was nowhere to be seen. He felt accepted as part of the group, and sue him, but it was nice.

Nice enough that when Buffalo started to wax poetic about Man U's prowess, Alex jumped in to give him half a dozen reasons why Chelsea was _clearly _the better team, and nice enough for him to grab a third can when he finished the second, and nice enough that when the conversation returned to Disney movies he said he liked _Mulan _best, because that had been Jack's favourite and he'd lost count of how many times they'd watched it together.

And then he froze, because usually he tried not to think of the ghosts of his past but today they were crowding his mind, and he could cope with memories of the Pleasures and Tom, but _Jack-_

He drained the rest of his drink, still over half full, and crumpled the metal in his hand.

"John?" Steve said, cutting Croc off mid-sentence, face full of soft concern.

Alex forced himself to uncurl his fingers, setting the mangled remains of the can down and massaging the red indents out of his palm.

"I'm fine," he lied.

His unit exchanged loaded glances, and the atmosphere of the evening changed as they silently agreed to abandon the more light-hearted topics in favour of the real, find-out-what-Spider's-deal-is purpose of the evening.

"So," Croc started tentatively, "what did everyone do before joining the SAS?"

The others gave brief answers of their own to put Alex at ease and disguise the interrogation (Steve still wasn't entirely happy with the plan, so for his part he was jumping in on questions in an attempt to divert them back to a more balanced discussion.)

"A couple years in the infantry," Alex shrugged when they got to him. It was a relief to be able to fall back on his cover story, to remind himself that he wasn't Alex Rider anymore.

"What else?" Croc demanded. "There's no way infantry explains the stunts you pull."

"Um," Alex said, "I had a busy childhood? Lots of weird hobbies."

"I'll say," Buffalo grunted. "You're not some kind of adrenaline junkie, are you? Because honestly, Rogers, a sense of self-preservation isn't a bad thing."

"I tried a few extreme sports," Alex hedged, "but my sense of self-preservation is fine."

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, glancing at Steve in the hope that the unit leader would change the subject. He'd done enough introspection on his attraction to danger, and was hoping he'd be able to put the Israel mission behind him and try harder to fit in as an ordinary teammate. But although the man was anxiously glancing between them, he made no move to step in, his own curiosity winning out.

"You didn't even tell us what you were doing before going after the terrorists," Buffalo persisted

"There wasn't time!"

"A quick 'I need back up over here' is all it would take."

"But I didn't need back up, and the rest of you had to deal with the hostages and everything else. And I made it out fine."

"Barely! At the very least you shouldn't have turned off the radio."

"I've already explained this," Alex said, frustrated. "I needed silence. There wasn't time to explain. I came up against a bad situation and I had to react to it."

"Fine, I guess I understand your reasoning," Buffalo conceded, "but it's just the latest, most dramatic stunt in a history of you being reckless.

"What history?" Alex said, because he couldn't remember having done something like that before.

"Not big things. Just the way you never hesitate before doing anything dangerous, even if it's just the way you run the assault course in training. Sure, you've reached a pretty impressive time for such a runt, but I wish you'd shave the extra seconds off by improving your technique, not by jumping off stuff from too high up without bothering to look."

"We've had extensive parachute training, I'm pretty sure I can manage a few short drops."

"There's no need to get defensive over it. I'm just worried about you, ok?"

Alex stared at him. Sure, he knew Buffalo cared about him as a teammate and didn't want him to get hurt, but they'd never really gotten along, not in the way that warranted the man watching him so closely.

"Jesus, kid, is that really so hard to believe?" Buffalo said, when he didn't say anything.

"Sorry for making you worry," he offered lamely.

"I'll worry about all you guys no matter what you do," Buffalo said dismissively - and he must be tipsy too, because he'd never say something so sentimental if he was sober. "But if you could warn us next time you're about to do something stupid, it might help to prevent me going grey before I'm even in my thirties. And," he adds, looking older than his twenty-seven years, "if there's anything you need to talk about, we'll listen, ok?"

Alex flinched at that, and had to take a moment to work out his response instead of snapping defensively. "We're SAS. Taking risks is what we do. And planning for a mission is all well and good, but the other side doesn't care about messing up our strategy, so sometimes we have to improvise, and if there's something I can do to stop more people getting hurt, I'm going to do it. And I won't always have time to think it through and coordinate with the rest of you."

"Ok," Bear said, "we get it. Just remember, we're a unit. A team. You don't have to save the world all by yourself."

"Right," Alex said, staring at him just a little too long before he shook himself out of it. "Okana means family! And family…" He looked around them expectantly, but no one jumped in to finish the quote. "Ok, this is terrible. I can't be in a team with people who don't appreciate Disney. We're having a marathon."

When Alex fell asleep several hours later in the middle of _Tarzan,_ head dropping to Steve's shoulder and snoring softly, Steve looked around at the rest of them.

"So, what's the verdict?" he whispered.

"We still don't know the half of what's going on with him," Croc answered, lips twisted down in a concerned frown.

"No," Buffalo agreed, "but he's a good kid."

Steve glanced down at the kid in question. "Yeah, he is. We can work with that."

* * *

**A.N. ...so not actually that many drunken confessions, but just enough honesty that Alex and Buffalo almost like each other now. Review? xx**


End file.
